


Wise men say only fools rush in

by talverrar



Series: 30-love [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Dancing, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Meet the Family, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talverrar/pseuds/talverrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam needs a fake boyfriend for her hated cousin's wedding. But who could /possibly/ volunteer? Heavily inspired by <a href="http://untildawnff.tumblr.com/post/128679210545/au-where-sam-lied-to-her-relatives-that-she-had-a"> this.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr: [here]() or [here :)]()

“Manny, stop, it's no big deal.”

“But it IS! It is a big deal! Why didn’t you tell me Amber was getting married?! Preferably _before_ they came?!”

Sam stood with her mother in the kitchen, whispering angrily. She could hear the party in the living room. Uncle Brad was doing one of his famous magical tricks.

There was a thud, a manly yelp, and a sound of breaking glass.

Mom hid her face in her hands.

“It’s your fault for lying in the first place. There’s nothing shameful in being single.”

“It is when your cousin is getting freaking _married_.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is! She’s only a year older and they’re already treating me like I’m an old maid!”

The other woman sighed, and shook her head.

“How petty of you. I expected better. I thought I wasn’t raising a liar.”

“I panicked! How was I supposed to know that her question was an intro to inviting us to an overblown party? I thought I wouldn’t see her for another year!”

“A lie is a lie, whether you get away with it or not.”

It’s Sam’s turn to sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry. Are you… expecting me to come clean?”

“Oh, hell no. You know what they’re like. They’d bite your head off. I’m expecting you to get creative.”

 

\---

 

She’d spent a good chunk of the following month trying to think of something that wouldn’t lead to her death by humiliation. She could, of course, say that her “boyfriend” is sick, or busy, or just hates weddings, but that would either make them pity her, or not believe the fake boyfriend even exists. The nerve of some people.

Her first choice was Michael. They were good friends and he was drop dead gorgeous, funny and smart. She could picture the look on her cousin’s face - there was no way her fiance was half the package. Sadly, though, he was back with Emily again, and she got jealous very easily. And if you had any sense of self-preservation, you wouldn’t cross Em. The mere thought of asking her for permission to fake-date her boyfriend made her want to vomit with anxiety.

Next up was Chris. Maybe he wasn’t as handsome as Mike, but he was clever and they got along splendidly. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but they could at least spend the night talking. Too bad there was no way in hell he would call off a definitely-not-a-date with Ashley on that day. She hardly blamed him.

She briefly considered asking Matt out. He was even handsomer than Mike, kind and, magically, single. The problem was, they weren’t really that close, and she was worried about his acting skills. She couldn’t have a boyfriend who was meh about her. Meh would be even worse than going alone. She needed someone affectionate, or at least good at faking affection.

There was only one option left.

 

\---

 

“I’m not cross-dressing for you!”

“Hannah, please, come on! It’s a life or death situation!”

“No!”

“You look so handsome in a suit! Remember when that girl asked for your number when you’d cut your hair short?”

“Oh my god, that was when I had no boobs!”

“You still don’t when you put on your sports bra,” noted Sam in good heart, but her friend seemed weirdly offended.

“Dude, not cool.”

“Please? Please, please, please, I already bought a fake stache for you! I can do literally anything you want in return!”

“Please get up, Sam. There’s no way I’m doing this.”

“I’ll do your geography homework for the rest of high school!”

“No.”

“I’ll name my firstborn after you!”

“You were going to anyway.”

“True. Damn it... I will… be your sex slave?”

“Woah, woah, ladies, am I interrupting something?”

Of course Josh had to come in in this very moment. Of course. Just her fucking luck.

“Yeah, Sam is whoring herself out for a wedding partner.”

“Jesus, Hannah, nicely put,” mumbled Sam, getting up from her knees at last. “Weren’t you supposed to be somewhere else this lovely afternoon?”

“I was, but poor Ashley doesn’t understand algebra all of a sudden.”

“Ugh, she’s so lame. She’s the best at algebra, who is she kidding?”

“You know who,” said Hannah wistfully.

There was a moment of silence for a certain pair of losers.

“So. A female wedding partner,” Josh grinned. “I thought your family wasn’t very open-minded.”

“They aren’t. She wanted me to do drag,” explained Hannah with a tired expression.

Josh’s laughter seemed to last for ages.

“Woah, Sammy, this made my year,” he said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “I had no idea you were so unpopular. Can’t find a single person to go dance with you for one night?”

He was teasing, but there was a bit of curious pity in his voice which made her hate him a little, and herself a lot.

“It’s not that. I… may or may not have told my family that I’m going with a boyfriend.”

Josh seemed to be taken aback.

“And he dumped you?” he asked carefully.

“Worse, he never existed.”

It took him a moment to actually understand what she was getting at, and it took him a good five minutes to stop laughing his ass off.

“This day just went from zero to ten!”

 

\---

 

“So you just want to make your cousin jealous? That’s out of character for you,” observed Josh a while later.

“Yeah, well, whatever. She was always trying to make me feel bad about myself. It’s time for payback.”

“I’m always a slut for revenge. Why didn’t you ask me in the first place?”

God must have hated her. She’d made sure that he wouldn’t be home today so that this exact question didn’t pop up. Fuck.

“I mean, we’re friends, I’m positively dashing and great at faking positive emotions. Really, why wouldn’t you come to me first?

That was exactly why. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said in a shaky voice, avoiding his and his sister’s gaze. She cleared her throat. “I just didn’t think you were the type to… want to go. With me.”

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Why not? We’re friends. I’d go anywhere with you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her blush furiously. Damn. Damn, shit, fuck.

“So… is that a yes?”

He gave her his trademark crooked grin. Her already panicked heart skipped a beat. Those dimples…!

“You won’t ensnare me so easily, missy! We can start with whatever you offered Hannah and take it from there.”

Hannah, who was sitting right next to him, kicked him in the shin.

“Ow! Fine! First date’s on the house then, whatever.”

Sam rubbed her temple in exhaustion. She was definitely going to regret this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dress shopping! Who's excited??? Certainly not Sam!!!

Between her mother’s teasing (“Manny, I’ve had no idea you harbored such feelings towards the Washingtons’ boy! That explains why you are always so eager to study at their place!” “Yup, nothing to do with the olympic-sized swimming pool.”) and Josh’s crude suggestions (“Wanna make out behind the cafeteria for practice?”), Sam was grateful that the day of the wedding was quickly approaching. The fact that she had nothing to wear was the least of her concerns.

Hannah didn’t share that last sentiment.

On her insistence, they ditched their last class and proceeded to spend the entirety of Thursday choosing her dress. Or at least trying to - Hannah didn’t seem to get what “limited budget” meant, and every time Sam attempted to stop her from making her try on another way-too-expensive colorful rag, she would stare at her in confusion. There were just some things people like the Washingtons couldn’t understand. It was all very mentally trying.

The mall was an endless labyrinth of brightly illuminated stores, smelling intensely of vanilla, lemon and artificiality. And even though they did not receive any help from neither Ariadne nor Siri, they managed to encounter the resident monster.

She was just grabbing her an Hannah’s iced caramel macchiatos when she felt someone pulling on her ponytail. She frowned and turned around swiftly, like a viper ready to strike, only to find herself face to face with Joshua Washington.

Well, not face to face. Her face to his neck, maybe. Annoying height difference.

She could recognize his perfume anywhere. He smelled of black tea and mandarin, and it took all of her focus to stop herself from leaning in and burying herself in the crook of his neck. He really didn’t look like the kind of guy who liked fruity perfumes, but here he was. And here she were. She felt her cheeks growing hot.

He stepped back with a sideways grin.

“Fancy meeting you here, honey. Coincidence or destiny?”

“Bad luck,” she smiled sardonically. “Really, Josh, stop it. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“See, that’s the point. If you want this thing to be believable, you need to get rid of awkwardness. And how? By dedication, practice and determination.”

“Serious business,” she teased.

“I don’t do anything half-way,” he announced, nodding.

“That’s why you do so little.”

“Touché! So, anyway, where’s Hannah?”

“In the bathroom, probably punching something. Shopping turns her into a demon, I swear. She’s so Beth-like today.”

“Oh, yeah, now that you mention it, they even look kind of similar. Almost like twins.”

She wanted to smack his arm, but her hands were busy, so she settled on a mocking smile and shaking her head. He laughed shortly and left her to order a vanilla latte. She went out of Starbucks to save them a table.

The beverage was delightfully cold, so she pressed Hannah's cup to her cheek as she sipped from her own. She hated how prone to blushing her face was. Combined with her acting inability, she was the worst liar ever. She was mentally preparing herself for the anxiety which would inevitably strike her on Saturday. She shivered at the thought.

Hannah approached her at the same time Josh did. She wiped the wet plastic cup with a handkerchief and moaned as she drank her first sip.

They made small talk for a while.

“The bathroom lines here are atrocious. I really hate malls,” announced Hannah, checking in the mirror if there was anything stuck to her teeth. It was a habit of hers. Sam never asked.

“One-stop shopping: everything you need, right at your fingertips,” quoted Josh, and Sam sighed. He smirked in response.

“What are you even doing here?” asked Hannah, not sounding too curious.

“I’m on a date with Sam and you’re fifth wheeling us.”

Sam groaned and closed her eyes in agony.

“Yeah, sure,” laughed Hannah.

“No, really, get outta here.”

“No, you get outta here. We need to get moving. This girl’s got literally nothing to wear.”

“Sounds good to me-”

“Okay, okay, stop,” whined Sam desperately. She took a deep breath. “Josh, tell us why you’re stalking us. Hannah, I do indeed have clothes in my wardrobe, so the situation is not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be. Enjoy your coffee and think happy thoughts.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, annoyed, and rested her head on her hand. She started playing with her iphone with the other.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Josh glared at her, offended. “You would never notice me if I was.”

“That wasn’t the point of the question.”

“I just want you to remember that.”

“Ok. You’re creepy, but ok.”

“Thanks,” he grinned. “I’m waiting for Chris and Mike to come back from the gym. We’re going to go see a movie.”

Hannah raised her eyes and a slight blush bloomed on usually pale cheeks. Sam knew exactly what two words were roaring in her head now. She herself was also sane enough to admit that Mike’s post-workout look was pretty hot.

“Well, I’d love to join you, but I am kind of busy. You’re free to go though, Hannah.”

“Right, and let you buy that gross silver thing from Zara. No dice.”

“It’s not like any of you were invited, anyway,” added Josh, looking at Sam provocatively.

“Oh, babe, I thought that was obvious. You know, since I’m your girlfriend,” she responded with a teasing smile.

He broke the eye contact and focused on drinking his coffee, seemingly forgetting that it’s already gone. She swore his ears turned red. Her throat clenched.

“Anyway,” Hannah changed the topic mercifully, “I think we should go back to Asos and try the navy blue one again. Ugh, thank God it’s only September, at this rate we might be able to find you a prom dress.”

Sam slapped her arm with an annoyed smile.

“You’re acting like a bitter version of the Godmother from Cinderella. I hardly recognize you.”

“Well, Cinderella, need to get back to shopping. See you around, Josh!”

“Can’t I go with you?” he asked jokingly.

The girls looked at each other in confusion.

“I’m bored,” he added, stretching vowels as usual.

“What are you, a child?” Sam felt panic pooling in her belly. “Of course you can’t go! Tell him how much he can’t go, Hannah!”

“Well, it’s not such a bad thing to have a male perspective,” she reasoned. “I mean, he is going to see you in it. He might as well have a say.”

“You’re setting feminism thirty years back with that sentence!”

Hannah shrugged indifferently in response.

“He’s going to make me feel uncomfortable!” tried Sam.

“The entire point is to choose a dress in which you feel comfortable with him, isn’t it?”

“Hannah! This isn’t a democracy! I’m going alone.”

“Great. We’ll just follow you around,” promised Josh, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

“Fuck you,” grumbled Sam angrily, but she waited for Hannah to take their empty cups to trash before she started walking towards one of the shops.

 

\---

 

Josh looked surprisingly comfortable in a store with female apparel. She supposed he would join the twins in their escapades every once and again. Or maybe his exes.

They were looking around together for a while, but something caught his attention in another corner.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this alive,” hissed Sam.

“I’m working in your best interest,” whispered Hannah back. “Plus, I really do want to get out of here. It’s almost 7 pm and you know I can’t go out with you tomorrow.”

“Whatever. The revenge shall be mine. I’m inviting Mike to our prom-dress-shopping.”

They glared at each other for a moment until Sam realized what she’d just implied.

“Not in a… like… not as if Josh was my Mike. I-I mean, like what Mike is to you. I mean-”

“Oh my God-”

“No! I was just thinking of the most evil thing I could do to you! I wasn’t comparing!”

She knew they must look rather ridiculous arguing in hushed voices, but she didn’t care. She did care, however, about who could overhear them. She grabbed a random dress from the hanger and pulled Hannah into the dressing room.

“I don’t. Have a crush. On your brother!” she panted, more hissing than whispering.

“Oh, but you do! You do!” muttered the girl, her face flushed with excitement worthy of a child on Christmas morning. “It’s so obvious! I can’t believe I’ve never noticed!”

Sam stomped her foot. She, an almost adult woman, actually stomped her foot.

“I’m telling you, no! Don’t make this weird!”

“Oh, Sammy, oh my God, I can’t believe I was so blind! I mean you’re this close to-”

“Not another word!”

“You would be so good together! I mean, your personalities match perfectly! There was this test in Seventeen a while ago and I checked of curiosity and it said-”

“Ok,” Sam gave her her best dying inside look. “Ok. Alright. This is going… a bit too far. Let’s just… talk about this later… and for now we can focus on finding me that stupid dress for the stupid wedding. How about that, hm?”

Hannah nodded, but she knew her well enough to know that she was thinking of Sam’s wedding dress. For Sam’s own wedding. With Josh.

She groaned in frustration and embarrassment.

 

\---

 

A few shops and about a dozen try-ons later, she actually found one dress she didn’t feel out of place in. It was saphire green, mid-thigh long and tight around the waist. It actually looked… good, and she supposed it would look even better when she wasn’t wearing socks and sneakers. Or maybe it was exhaustion talking and she just wanted to be done with it all.

She stepped out of the dressing room to call out for Hannah, but instead, as luck would have it, she bumped into Josh.

When did her life turn into a romantic comedy?

“Sorry-” he mumbled automatically, and then a flash of recognition shone in his eyes. She heard him swallow.

They looked at each other, inches apart, and suddenly she felt like her dress was too short, and the cleavage cut too low, and maybe burkas weren’t such a bad idea after all, because his gaze was burning her.

She lifted her hands to her definitely-covered-by-two-layers-of-fabric breasts, in a silly attempt at modesty - as if she wasn’t a modern, liberated woman, but a victorian lady caught in her sleeping gown - but he stopped her, grabbing her by the wrists.

He made a silly face and let go of her mere seconds later, but it left a tingling sensation on her skin. He tried to clear his throat, and a weird, strangled sound came out of it.

She felt the corners of her mouth curl. This was all so silly. She patted him cordially in the arm.

“Like what you see, huh?”

“You could say that,” he said slowly. “You could also tie a ribbon around your waist and make for a very nice Christmas present.”

“Smooth,” she laughed, hiding her hands behind her back to stop herself from playing with them nervously. He looked around, as if there was anything to see in a minimalistic dressing room. The way he chewed on his lower lip made her want to do some bad things.

Like punch herself in the gut.

“Mm-kay. I gotta get going. Hannah sent me here to ask you if you want another size.”

“Huh. And do I?”, she clenched her fists, forcing a smile on her undoubtedly red face.

“Definitely not. Your buns are going to get all the creepy uncles wiggling around you the entire night.”

“Josh! You are the literal worst!”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. His fingers were cold. Or maybe she just had a fever.


	3. Chapter 3

Her parents graciously accept her offer to drive herself and Josh to the church. This way she can avoid uncomfortable small-talk for at least another two hours (three if they sit in the back, and they definitely will).

The day is sunny and humid (of course, as usual, as  _always_ in Los Angeles, and she just  _had to_ run out of waterproof eyeliner, so she’s going to look like a panda before they even arrive to the reception hall, and Josh’s going to make fun of her the entire night). The care label of her dress is scratching the back of her neck, and she should be used to high-heeled shoes at the age of seventeen, she knows, it’s the law, but she isn’t, so for now she’s a responsible driver and wears flats. Red stilettos seem to glare at her venomously from the back seat, judging her.

She sends Josh a text when she’s nearing his house, and he urges her to come over with a Lenny face. She obliges, hoping for some cool lemonade and Hannah’s last minute make-up emergency help, but the house is deserted. A twist of panic strikes her stomach.

“Josh?” she calls out, and the living room answers her with an echo. She can hear music coming from upstairs. She walks up to the door of his room with her heart matching the rhythm of the bass-heavy song she’s not heard before. She should just send another text. This can only end in some embarrassing way.

She knocks.

No answer.

She knocks again, and jumps like startled cat at the sensation of a cold hand on her shoulder.

“Woah there,” Josh laughs, and she turns around to face him. His hair is disheveled, damp from the shower. He’s wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black trousers. The intense smell of mandarin and tea envelops her like a blanket, makes her want to wrap herself around him, lick this stupid perfume off him, bite his neck, kiss him, he’s talking, he’s talking and you’re not listening, stop smelling him you creep-

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, sure,” she scoffs, her face growing red. “Sure you didn’t. That’s so unlike you.”

“Well, okay, maybe I did,” he shrugs. “No need to get so embarrassed, Sammy. For some must prank, while some must be pranked.”

“So runs the world away,” she shakes her head. “You know, when a teenage girl dreams of a guy quoting Shakespeare at her-”

“Paraphrasing.”

“Thanks, _Ash_ , paraphrasing Shakespeare at her, that’s not what she has in mind.”

“The girl must broaden the horizons of her imagination, then,” he chides her, opening the door to his room.

She’s only been here a couple times, and never alone. Never alone with him.

It’s weird seeing it lit by sunlight, as he usually has the windows covered by Roman shades. It’s grey and black, like most of his clothes, and it screams ‘expensive interior designer’s vision’ because of how well everything works together, starting from glass framed movie posters hanging on the walls, to the cabinet for retro movie cameras, not to mention a b&w mural depicting the opening scene from The Clockwork Orange. It looks… well, disturbing, but clean, even if his bed is covered by a pile of expensive-looking shirts.

That last detail makes her smile. She was not the only one worrying about her looks today, after all.

“We don’t really have the time for you to dry your hair, you know,” she says leaning against the doorframe.

“Ah, it’s alright, I’ll just stick my head out the car window like a dog and let it dry itself,” he responds seriously, looking for something in the wardrobe.

_If I were a boy_ plays in her head enviously.

“As long as it doesn’t make you look like Jimmy Neutron, I don’t care.”

He laughs at the imagery and the twist in her stomach lessens. It’s just Josh. Why would she be nervous around him? He’s like an older brother, they’ve known each other for years. They’re going to have lots of fun together, share useless movie trivia and touch each other appropriately. Fun. Happy fun times.

“Hey,” he calls, “come here and choose a tie for me. I’m rubbish at this.”

“Well, well, there’s something Joshua Washington can’t do besides everything that involves physical activity,” she coos, obligingly browsing through the drawer he opened up for her. She chooses one that matches her dress and he sends her a teasing grin for it.

“I said a tie, not a leash.”

“More like a collar. Too bad it doesn’t have my name on it,” she smiles back. “I guess it is obvious enough, though.”

“Well, if it isn’t, Hannah got you something that screams ‘I’m taken’. Catch,” he says, throwing a small, black box her way. She does, and he mockingly applauds her from the safety of his desk he’s leaning against. “Such physical prowess.”

She ignores him.

“What is this?”

“Your early birthday present. Also, your collar. Of sorts.”

Thankfully, it’s not a collar. It isn’t even anything neck-related. It’s a bracelet. A simple, delicate platinum chain, with a heart-shaped charm attached to it in the middle, and a white ribbon at the clasp. On one side of the charm there is a carving of a sparrow, on the other…

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” she reads out loud, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my- Oh my god...”

He laughs at her reddening face, but his cheeks are burning, too.

“This is the cheesiest, most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” she mumbles, focusing on the bracelet instead of his face. “You really shouldn’t have-”

“Hey, hey, it’s all Hannah’s doing. I only payed for it,” he retorts, defensively. “C’mere, I’ll fasten it for you.”

He actually jerks away when their fingers brush against each other accidentally.

“Static electricity,” he murmurs, but the electricity she feels is anything but*.

\---

They spend the wedding ceremony outside of the church - as they ended up being late - practicing casual hand holding. She wills herself to stop making a big deal out of it; she actually has had boyfriends before, many boyfriends and one Beth, just enough people to lose her virginity (or whatever the society perceives it as). The fact that Josh’s pinkie is playing with hers is not a reason for her to feel as if a school of fish was trying to perform some SeaWorld trick in her belly.

Fuck SeaWorld, anyway.

The stilettos allow her to wrap her arms around his forearm without feeling like a child, which is nice. Her feet hurt, which is less nice, but she’s been through worse, like that time when she’d bought new sports shoes before running a quarter-marathon. She’s still mad at herself for that one, doesn’t matter that she was thirteen.

The ceremony is over, and everyone gathers outside to throw flower petals at the young couple. The groom, whom she’s seeing for the first time in her life, is a tall, slim man in glasses, and she vaguely remembers her cousin mentioning that they all went to the same elementary school before Sam’s parents moved to another part of LA.

She must admit that Amber looks radiant. Dirty blonde hair glitter in the sunlight like old gold, the dress makes her look like a Disney princess; her smile seems genuine and happy, and she seems to be paying Sam no attention. Good. Wonderful. It’s not like she needs it.

When it’s her turn to congratulate the newlyweds, Amber kisses her on the cheek and hugs her tightly. It feels as if a huge burden has been lifted from her heart, years of jealousy and resentment forgotten in a single moment. 

What a relief, she was already tired of trying to prove her own worth to someone who was, after all, only trying to celebrate her big day. She feels like an idiot. She should’ve just told her the truth in the first place. The bracelet on her wrist is suddenly heavy, like an anchor, or guilt, or a lie.

“If only there was someone out there who loved you, Manny” the bride whispers to her ear, and Sam feels her face reddening.

“Actually,” she finds herself saying unconsciously, “I have. I don’t think you’ve met my boyfriend, Joshua Washington, son of _the_ Bob Washington. You know. That movie producer.”

\---

They’re in a hotel ballroom, sitting at one of the small, round tables, each decorated with bouquets of freesias, lemongrass and pink roses. The room is in a delicate shade of minty green and silver. It’s classy, and modestly elegant. If anything, her cousin has always had a sense of style.

Josh keeps squeezing her hand throughout the screening of “Amber and Adam’s love story - the movie”. She points out every photo Amber had edited her out of, and he jokes about their cliché montage choices. Their whispery giggles sizzle and disappear under Taylor Swift’s songs like fireworks. 

One of his fingers keeps playing with the heart charm of her bracelet, and she feels the tickle of electricity every time he strokes the sensitive skin of her wrist. She supposes that holding hands under the table doesn’t add much believability to their fake relationship as long as nobody is paying attention, but neither of them seems to mind. She’s trying to not overthink it.

Her family members’ speeches drag on and on and  _on_ , and Amber keeps glancing her way. A part of Sam wants to ignore her completely. The better part. She likes to think there’s more of the  _good_ Sam inside her than the other one, but not today. Today, she lays her head on Josh’s shoulder, and completely ignores his sudden tenseness. Today, she can stroke his knuckles soothingly. Today, she can get drunk on tea and mandarin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sam isn’t very good at physics.


	4. Chapter 4

Tea and mandarin are really going to be the only things for her to get drunk on today, because she’s not of age. The fact that she makes the most wicked margaritas (as her friends would happily confirm) is irrelevant and should not be brought to anyone’s attention. Josh agrees with her completely, but the open bar makes both of their mouths water. Sam’s not a huge drinker, but she’s certain she would enjoy herself more if her head was less clear, and her movements less thought-out.

It’s not that she’s not having fun, because, surprisingly, she is. She gets to swap comments regarding everyone and everything with the funniest person she knows, the food is good and, as far as she can tell, perfectly vegan, and her parents didn’t embarrass her yet. She congratulates her past self for not trying to hide her “relationship” status from them. The fact that they’re not really dating doesn’t stop her dad from making cheeky jokes directed at her plus one, but Josh doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he cleverly twists her parents’ words against them, and by the end of the meal they’re probably more in love with Josh than she is.

That last thought makes her choke on her dessert.

\---

Sam’s sure her cousin had spent more than a year practicing the dance routine with her then-fiance, but she can’t help but envy the way she holds herself, how her body seems to hover a few inches above the dancefloor in perfect harmony with her partner, how her long dress looks feather-light despite probably weighing a ton. Michael Bublé’s soft baritone entrances her, her eyes tear-up slightly, and suddenly Josh’s arm resting on the back of her chair feels _wrong_ , blasphemous, and she’s going to be _sick_ , so she slips outside accompanied by the sound of applause and her mother’s concerned gaze.

She’s fine. She just needs to survive this one day and she’ll start getting over her useless crush, little by little. Find someone more approachable, someone who doesn’t remember her chubby cheeks and the first time she puked after alcohol. Someone whose sister didn’t see her naked maybe.

She breathes in the afternoon air and distracts herself from the lovey-dovey music by browsing through her twitter feed. She smiles at Ashley’s emoji-heavy minireview of the movie she’s been waiting to see all year, and Matt’s live-tweeting of the process of baking muffins for Jess and Em. She’s about to sign a petition against fox-hunting when she receives a notification on instagram.

“Chirping yellow-breasted tit,” she curses, bringing the phone closer to her face. “This is fucking unbelievable.”

“Language, Samantha,” Josh warns her from behind, but there’s a shade of concern in his voice. She’s too weirded out to even acknowledge him with a glance. “Sup?” He tries again, leaning against the wall in that unnervingly suave way of his.

“Well, see for yourself,” she hisses, shoving her phone into his hands.

He chews on his lower lip, stifling a laugh. She’s frowning so hard she must be resembling an owl.

“Aaamber95 tagged you in her photo,” he reads out loud, the grin warming his voice pleasantly. “My baby cousin @its-a-me-sammy got herself a boyfriend finally! Good to see everyone having fun, thumbs up emoji, thumbs up emoji, thumbs up emoji. Hashtag never lose hope, hashtag blessed.”

She looks up at him, waiting for a proper reaction.

“It’s weird that she’s liveblogging her own wedding,” he tries.

Silence.

“Um. Is she not aware that you have had boyfriends before?”

More silence.

“Huh. Um. Your... nose looks a bit longer than usual in the photo?”

“Josh, she has outed out our fake as fuck relationship to the public,” she says through gritted teeth, every word stressed out. He frowns at her, confused.

“So? Why do you care?”

“Because it’s not true? And I was never considering dragging it on for longer than necessary?” Now _that’s_ a lie.

“So?” he asks again, but there’s not a shade of a smile left on his face.

“It’s not right. It could lead to trouble,” she reasons.

“It’s not like we’re, I don’t know, kissing, I mean, we’re just _talking_ ,” he’s the frowning one now, sounding more annoyed than necessary. “You can always explain to your crush, or whoever it is you’re worrying about, that she misinterpreted what you said to her. Or whatever.”

Yeah, she thinks, as if that lovesick expression on her face could be considered platonic under any circumstance. Is she being that obvious _all the time_? God, were the earth merciful, it’d just swallow her whole this instance.

“I was mostly thinking about you,” she confesses bravely. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble because me. Because of this.”

“I might already be,” he sends her an unsure, crooked grin, and as always, it makes her knees go weak. “It does not concern you, though. Look, Sammy, the photo’s fine. No PDA, no nothing. I knew what I was signing up for, so chill. Let’s go back inside.”

She shamefully saves the photo. They do look quite sweet on it, she must admit, despite her too-long nose. 

\---

In great secrecy, her father smuggles two watered-down martinis for them. It tastes nothing like the real stuff from Jessica’s mother’s minibar, but she still makes a show of drinking it; she grimaces with disgust and even chokes a little. Josh has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from laughing out loud at her overacting, but the old man seems pleased. They look like two proper alcohol virgins, and it’s good. It’s good to let your parents stay innocent for as long as possible.

Once he leaves them alone, she gulps down the contents of the glass in one swig, save for the olives at the bottom. Josh scoops them into his own drink, like he always does. She likes olives, too, but finds his love for them endearing. Not that she’d ever tell him.

“So,” she starts slowly, “we either go dancing or we wait for someone from my family to approach us and start asking uncomfortable questions.”

He chews slowly, thinking.

“So it’s a choice between a headache and having my feet stepped on repeatedly? I think I’ll risk passing on the fast songs for now.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You’ve never _ever_ danced with me before.”

“For good reasons, Sammy. I saw how you dance with others.”

“Rude.”

He shrugs, tilting his head provocatively.

“To be honest, I’m so great at it that I was scared you’d fall in love with me instantly.”

“More like fall down on my face, noodle-arms,” she teases, their word-sparring routine familiar and comforting.

“Rude,” echoes Josh, frowning jokingly. “Are you trying to taunt me? Because it’s working.”

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his not-at-all-noodly forearms, and she must be making a face, because he laughs.

“So thirsty, Sammy. Tsk, tsk.”

“You wish,” she snorts, but her voice is weirdly high-pitched, and she can’t stop staring at his delicate wrists and sinewy, narrow hands. His fingers are long, slim, dexterous-looking, and she is deeply aware that her cheeks are growing hotter and hotter with every second. This is awkward. She’s awkward. _Stop_.

He boops her on the nose. She glances up at him, squirming, and they both seem surprised by how close their faces are. The side of his index finger is touching her cheek, his thumb strokes her jaw once, so tentatively that she almost doesn’t register it. She opens up her mouth to say something, but there’s no air left in the entire room; she just moves her lips like a fish out of the water. It’s his cue to laugh at her, lean back with a cheeky comment, but he’s petrified, his eyes gazing into hers with intensity.

The tension is palpable, it muffles every sound around them, makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He looks like he could _kiss her_. This can’t be right, she tries to reason with her galloping thoughts, there must be something on her face. Something horrifying. A spider. A tumor. Another head. Maybe he’s having a stroke. Maybe she is.

He moves his head closer to hers, just an inch, but it’s enough for the butterflies in her stomach to start flipping their shit. She’s going to vomit out of nervousness. She’s going to _die_.

She closes her eyes, and momentarily sees stars.

Josh’s forehead clashes with hers forcefully, and they groan miserably in unison.

“No public face sucking allowed, Manta Ray! Unless you put a ring on it!” a male voice bellows, and the next thing she knows is that she’s being lifted up and crushed between two muscular arms.

“I’m going to freaking murder you, you putz,” she whimpers, head pulsating with pain, but the man just chuckles.

“Great to see you too, kiddo,” he responds, letting her stand back down. “Been a while.”

“You don’t say, jerk. Grow up.”

“Says the smallest one in the family. Don’t think those heels of yours are fooling anyone.”

“Very funny, Zach,” she grumbles, but she’s smiling. She stops when she glances at Josh. Something twists in her stomach. “Hey, hey. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, uh. Sure. He just… caught me off guard,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

“Sorry, bro, I sometimes forget how strong I am,” Zack somehow manages to apologize without sounding remotely remorseful. “Didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“Yeah. I get it, it was just a joke, no worries,” Josh answers, unamused.

She stands between the two of them awkwardly.

“I should probably… Josh, meet Zach, brother of the bride. Zach, this is my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, bro,” the bigger man grins, giving him a once-over. And second-over. He doesn’t look too impressed. Sam frowns, sending her cousin a malicious gaze, crossing her arms defiantly. His smile falters.

“Boyfriend, huh? How did you two meet?”

“Through my sister,” Josh shrugs indifferently. “She’s been friends with Sam since freshman year.”

“Oh, cool. And how old are you?”

“A year older than Sammy.”

“Huh. So, college. UCLA?”

“No, I’m still a senior.”

“Huh,” Zach raises his eyebrow judgmentally. “What happened?”

“Not really any of your business,” Josh answers, playing with his last olive, seemingly unperturbed, but she knows him too well to trust him.

“Zach,” she warns the man, shifting her weight from one leg to the other unconsciously, as if she was in a boxing match.

“It’s ok,” Josh assures her with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Honestly. I’m used to it.”

“Sorry, bro, we can change the topic. What are your intentions regarding my little cousin?”

Her back stiffens, face grows hotter, oh, merciful gods...

“What do you mean, precisely?” Josh’s smile changes from _I’m fine, stop asking_ to _I’m going to be a little shit now_.

“Are you two fucking?”

Abandon the ship, abandon the ship!

“Ok, boys, I’ll leave you to it, play nice,” Sam announces in the most laid-back tone she can muster, which is not very. She leans down to pat Josh on the shoulder compassionately.

“Told you so,” she whispers, and she knows she shouldn’t overthink the way his body stiffens when her lips brush against the skin of his ear accidentally (yeah, _accidentally_ , sure), but she can’t really help it.

\---

“Oh, great that you’re back, Sammy, our song is on. What a tune, what a tune,” Josh says rapidly, getting up from the table as he sees her approaching. “Didn’t you mention you were dying to dance with me earlier?”

“I-”

“See you around, bro!” Josh sends Zach a terrifyingly cheerful grin, and pushes Sam towards the dance floor. She doesn’t even have time to get nervous when he catches her hand in his and grips her waist. There’s a bit of chaste space between them she’s grateful for and hates at the same time.

“Since when is _We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together_ our song, exactly?” she asks, internally begging her hands to stop sweating.

“Since your cousin decided to start threatening me with murder and genital mutilation,” he answers matter-of-factly, but she can tell he’s disturbed because they’re not exactly dancing to the rhythm.

“Sorry. I should have warned you. Zach is a bit intimidating, but it’s just a facade.”

He doesn’t answer, his lips forming a thin line.

“He’s just like Matt, but with Mike’s attitude.”

“You mean he’s an asshole, but with more chiseled pecks? Great,” he snarls, but twirls her at the chorus. Good. No permanent trauma then.

“He’s just protective of his family. He actually broke my first boyfriend’s nose when he attempted to kiss me.”

“Great to hear that,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“We were in kindergarten.”

“I imagine he got better at breaking things since then. Thanks. Real comforting. Feeling way better now.”

She laughs, and he grips her waist harder, teasing. She ignores the tingling feeling it leaves her with.

“I don’t think that kissing is going to be a problem. We could be one of those ‘taking it slow’ couples,” she comforts him. He spins her again, and when he pulls her back, she ends up pressed against his chest. She must admit, it takes her breath away. Just a bit.

“We’re whatever you want us to be, Sammy,” he murmurs, sending a chill down her spine.

She’s drowning in tea and mandarin, uncomfortably aware of every spot where their bodies touch, her chest pooling with heat. She’s the biggest idiot on the planet, and her pounding heart might give that away, but she is nothing if not brave.

She awkwardly forces their hands apart and wraps her arms around his neck. A miracle brought to you by the amazing invention of high-heel shoes. He sends her an amused side grin, and she’s beaming with happiness, but also worries about her sanity once this charade is over. And then he pulls her even closer, so close that the sides of their heads touch, and she can’t hear her thoughts over the rush of blood in her ears, mesmerizing her like violent ocean tides, and can feel nothing but the slow circling of his hands on her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i swear the next part IS the last one i'm shit at finishing things and letting go so just... hug me  
> and wish me happy birthday because it's tomorrow! yay one year closer to finally returning to the void!


End file.
